No Time
by ke0212
Summary: When Martin called Louisa in the taxi as she was on the way to the airport telling her not to get on the plane, she said they had been through this. I wondered how that conversation could have gone. This very short story is set in series six, after the end of episode seven and before the beginning of episode eight...so possible spoilers if you have not yet seen series six.
1. Chapter 1

_**Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.**_

"Martin, we've been through this….Can I please just speak to you later". With that she hung up her mobile and continued her trip to the airport.

I briefly considered and quickly rejected notifying the airport authorities of Louisa's condition. It would take too much time to traverse the bureaucratic requirements and she had no time. Desperate to save her, I flew down the hill towards the airport.

Yes, we had discussed delaying her trip, but my reasons now were different from our conversation last night. After we returned from the hospital, where she had told me she was "taking a break" from me and flying to her mother's in Spain, she headed straight upstairs to bed. My mother, in her usual haughty tone, had told Louisa that she looked dreadful, and then had nattered on about going out to eat, just the two of us. Good God, did the woman have no sense of decency? My wife had just been injured in a car accident. "I have to tend to James and then keep an eye on Louisa. Go to the pub or to Bert's", I snapped at her. Then softly to James, "Let's go check on your nappy and see if we can help mummy get into bed."

Upstairs Louisa was struggling to get out of her dress. I sat James in his cot and went over to help her, undoing her zip and gently releasing her arms, one at a time, out of her dress, then slipping it down over her chest and legs. Then I helped her to get her into her pajamas. It wasn't easy with her left arm in a sling. Will her mother take the time to help her dress and undress when she gets to Spain?

Both James and I had difficulty sleeping the night Louisa was in hospital. It had been his first night without his mother, if we don't count the fiasco of our wedding night. Things were going as well as possible; he ate a big dinner and enjoyed his bath, but then, as I lifted him from the bath and wrapped his baby towel around his head and torso, he started looking for mummy. "Muh, muh" he started to whimper. "Where is she?" his little eyes implored me. All I could say was that I missed her too, and hold him tight to my chest, but it wasn't enough. Before long he was wailing, as he realized that mummy wasn't home. Despite my efforts to soothe him, he cried inconsolably for over an hour before he finally settled.

Last night it might have been even more difficult to settle him. With Michael gone and our trips to hospital, his regular routine had been completely disrupted. Michael… what are we going to do without him? Finally our child minder problems had seemed to be solved. Michael was a rock of reliability and James apparently loved being with him. Now he was gone, back to the army where he will get the OCD therapy he does desperately need. But once again we are without reliable child care, that is, assuming Louisa does return to the village and to our home.

Aunt Ruth's questions reverberated in my mind: "Why did you let her leave? Why didn't you stop her?"

"I couldn't." I replied. And that was true, but it wasn't because I hadn't tried. James was still unsettled because of the change in his routine, but I managed to calm him more quickly than the night before. After I fed him and put him to bed, I got myself ready and then quietly slipped into our bed next to Louisa. She stirred and asked, "Is James alright? I heard him crying earlier."

"Yes he's fine now," I replied. "You know how he doesn't like his routine disrupted. Uhm…How are you feeling? Do you need any pain medication? I could get it for you."

"No, I'm fine right now. Good night."

We lay there for a few minutes and then I whispered, "Louisa"

"What is it, Martin?"

"Uhm…I really don't think you should leave, at least not right away."

She sighed, "But I need to go for a while to think things through."

"I understand. But I am worried about your health. Even with the heparin, you risk another blood clot while you are seated in a cramped plane. Traveling on a plane being unable to move about exacerbates the risk of another thrombosis. I will worry about you the entire trip."

"I'll be fine. The doctors at the hospital said it would be okay for me to take a short flight."

"Well, promise me that you will stretch your legs during the flight. Even better, get up and walk down the aisle at least once during the fight. And drink plenty of water."

"I promise to stretch my legs. I will call you as soon as we land so you won't have to worry for long, and I will call as soon as I reach my mother's house. I promise"

But that wasn't my only concern. After a few moments I tried again, "How are you going to care for James with your broken collarbone? It's important that the bone not shift out of position while it is healing. I'd really like you to stay and let me monitor you while the healing process begins, at least for a week, preferably longer. Please stay and let me care for you."

"Martin, really, I'll be fine. I appreciate your concern, really I do. But I'll have my mother to help me with James. I talked with her and she is looking forward to seeing us.

"Humph," I thought with a grimace. "Unlikely." At least I had the presence of mind not to say it out loud. We lay there in silence a while longer, and then I blurted out, "I don't want you to go. I will miss you… and James. I couldn't bear it if anything else happened to you."

After a moment, she reached over and softly touched my hand, "Oh Martin, I know. I do know how much you care, and I do love you for it, and we will miss you too…. but…but please, please try to understand. I need to get away and think about us and what is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. You're so unhappy and I can't seem to help you."

"It's not you…"

"But it started after our wedding, the blood sensitivity and then the insomnia. If it's not me, then what is it? Why are you so miserable? What is wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should try to figure it out while I am gone. Talk to that psychiatrist….please"

"Mmmm….yes….. But please just consider waiting a few days before…"

"I can't; I just can't. I've already made the reservations."

"Reservations can be changed."

She cut me off. "Martin, I have to go. End of subject. My shoulder is really starting to hurt. Maybe you could get me that pain medicine now…..please."

What more could I have said that would have made her stay? How will I live with myself if I can't reach her before the plane leaves and she suffers a hemorrhage. I have to reach her and ensure that her AVM is treated correctly. Then…then I have to make her listen, make her understand that I want to be a better husband for her. I need to tell her how much I need her help if I am to succeed. I so desperately want to make her happy. Aunt Ruth is right; I have always found it hard to believe that she could love someone like me. But after all that we have been through, after all that I have said and done to her, she must see something in me that is worth loving. I have no idea what, but apparently she does, and I will do anything to make her happy. I keep rejecting her offers of help, but not anymore. I need her to help me, and I will even see that bloody psychiatrist if that will help. I will...


	2. Chapter 2

"Louisa, just listen to me. Don't get on that plane. You don't understand; it's vitally important that you do not get on that plane."

"Martin, we've been through this….Can I please just speak to you later". Rubbing my aching head, I hung up my mobile and continued on to the airport.

Why couldn't he understand that I just need a break? I need to try to understand where things went wrong for us. We had been so happy after we rescued James Henry from crazy Mrs. Tischell, who's still completely bodmin, if you ask me, no matter what Martin and Ruth say. He told me that he loved me, that he would always love me. We had grown so much closer during the months after that frightening time. Then one night lying close together after making love, Martin whispered, "Louisa, will you marry me?" "Oh yes, yes," was all I could say. We were both so happy; I know we were.

Even after our crazy and memorable wedding night, we had been happy, at least for a few weeks. Martin had always been a man of few words, monosyllabic I had once called him; but a month or so after our wedding, he quietly started to pull away from me, spending more time alone in his consultation room in the evenings and working on his clock.

When his blood sensitivity came back, why could he not tell me? Why did he confide in Ruth and not me? I am his wife, the woman who loves him, the woman who cares for him, deeply. He said he didn't want to worry me. Doesn't he realize that helping each other through the good times and bad is what brings us even closer? But he doesn't seem to want to get closer, which is what hurts so much. When he can't sleep and leaves our bed, I feel bereft, and I worry about him. Why can he not reach out and confide in me?

And having his mother around didn't help matters either. What a shrew. I know that's not kind, but it's true. Try as I might, nothing I did could please her. And the way she treats Martin, horrible. How could she not call him immediately after his father died? That was unforgivable. No wonder he has trouble showing us how much he cares; I bet she never showed him any love, letting him cry himself to sleep as a baby. How could any mother do that?

It all came to a head yesterday at the sports day when he behaved abominably. He had agreed to hand out the medals and to give a short talk on the benefits of exercise. He is always telling his patients to get more exercise; and as head teacher, it is my responsibility to encourage the children to develop both their minds and their bodies. His brief lecture about how sports participation is not that important completely contradicted what I had just said to the children. And then he just stomped off the stage and across the field, shouting how he didn't have time for this.

He had rejected my request that morning for us to take a quiet weekend away by ourselves; and then… to ignore me and stomp off, making it clear to all my colleagues and pupils that he had no respect for me, was just more than I could bear. I was humiliated and furious, all of which led to my accident, broken collarbone and resolve to get away.

Then last night he asked me not to go, first giving me his usual medical reason, this time about the risk of another blood clot on the plane. The hospital doctors had assured me it would be fine; he worries too much. Then he expressed concern about the difficulty of caring for James with my arm in a sling. I will admit he had a point; but my mother will help, I am sure. Even though he didn't say anything, I could feel him glowering through the darkness; he's never made a secret about how unreliable he thinks she is.

Then finally he admitted that he would miss me, miss both of us. It almost sounded like he was choking back tears, and my heart almost melted… almost. That man! He can be so insensitive, exasperating, and infuriating one moment and then say the most loving sensitive things the next; it was so hard not to pull him to me and forgive him. It was all I could do to resist him. But I did ….resist him, that is. Even so, I reached out to him and tried to reassure him that I knew how much he loved me, and that I loved him.

Then I reminded him how unhappy he was, how all of it had started after our wedding, and how I wasn't able to help him even though I had wanted to help and had offered to listen more than once. And I suggested, once again, that he consult with Ruth's psychiatrist. He did say yes, but does that mean he will or just that he understood? I think his yes means he will; I hope it does. Because we won't be able to move on until he figures it all out. Maybe some time alone will help. I hope so. I hope so.


End file.
